


Rather Taste It On Your Lips

by nichestars



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Birthday Cake, Domestic, Fluff, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-25 07:32:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12526204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nichestars/pseuds/nichestars
Summary: “When’s the last time the three of us all had our rest day at the same time?” Poe is grinning at him, hunched over the single eye of his burner-top at the desk. “I wanted to make you guys breakfast.”





	Rather Taste It On Your Lips

**Author's Note:**

  * For [halfeatenmoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfeatenmoon/gifts).



> I promised [aimmyarrowshigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimmyarrowshigh/pseuds/aimmyarrowshigh), who had surgery this week and wasn’t able to write something as she had planned, that I would pinch-hit this for her… and then I got sick. Despite the circumstances, I had fun writing this, and I hope you enjoy it. Thanks to [belugas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/belugas) for the speedy beta so this could be posted tonight.

The bite of clean air wakes Finn up. The new base on 110217–the military designation, because the moon is too small to be of real habitable use and has never needed a name before–has chilly mornings that remind him of Starkiller. Finn never minded the sting at his nose, the way his breath puffed like some sort of dragon’s. But it’s disorienting here: he crawls over Rey’s legs to get out of bed, is stumbling to the window to shut it when he realizes Poe is already up. 

“The first batch got a little crispy, sorry,” Poe says, gesturing. There’s a crumbling stack of darkened _something_ on the outside ledge of the window. 

Finn rubs his eyes. “S’okay. What’re you doing?” 

“When’s the last time the three of us all had our rest day at the same time?” Poe is grinning at him, hunched over the single eye of his burner-top at the desk. “I wanted to make you guys breakfast.” 

Finn drapes an arm over Poe’s shoulders and leans into the sturdy line of his back, inhales the sweet smell at the nape of his neck. “And what did you make?”

“I made pancakes,” Poe says. As if sensing Finn’s amusement, he sighs. “Look, these all turned out just fine.” He indicates the stacks of golden brown hotcakes piled on the plasti-ware plates from their overnight kits. 

“You made cake?” Rey is sitting up in bed across the room, pushing hair out of her face, squinting at them. “Is it a life day cake?”

Poe and Finn turn as one to look at her. “Is it your life day?” Poe asks, gently. They haven’t talked about it.

Rey frowns slightly, pulls away the hair that stuck to her lips in her sleep. “No, I don’t– I don’t know when that is.” 

“I don’t know either, Rey.” Finn’s voice is soft, and he pads back to the bed, curls around her in the sheets, tucks his chin over her shoulder. “But we can celebrate them whenever we want, isn’t that right, Poe?”

Poe nods, turning off the burner-top and bringing the pancakes over to the bed. He grabs cups from the desk, but when Finn takes one, it’s filled with berries, not caf. 

“To go on top,” Poe says, and Rey makes an appreciative noise, plucking a fistful of them and popping them in her mouth indiscriminately. Finn picks through to find his favorites, the tart blue-black ones with shiny skins. 

There’s syrup, too, which gets spread between the three of them on plates and fingers. 

“The whole point of life days is to celebrate _you_ ,” Poe says, watching Rey roll the pancakes between her fingers with berries and syrup. 

Rey narrows her eyes, licking berry juice off her thumb. “We do that every day,” she says, slowly. “Celebrate being alive, celebrate being together.” 

“But I wouldn’t mind celebrating with cake sometimes too,” Finn decides. 

Rey nods. “Especially like this.” She’s eyeing the last pancake left on Poe’s plate, slathered in syrup. 

“Go on,” Poe says with a smile. He doesn’t even like syrup that much. 

Rey laughs, pushing the crumbs into her mouth. “They’re so sweet.” 

“We’ll have to make a real cake soon,” Finn mutters, nudging Poe’s knee with his own in the sheets. “With frosting.” 

It’s too easy to imagine Rey, eyes bright with sugar, lips sweet with frosting. Poe threads his fingers through Finn’s, agreeing. 

Rey leans into Finn’s shoulder and feeds him a berry with sticky fingertips. “I’m going to hold you to that.” 

They both know that she will.


End file.
